


don't see a point in blaming you

by depressedpotato



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Best Friends, Cage Fights, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Kinda, Kissing, Late at Night, Quirk Training (My Hero Academia), Underground Dueling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressedpotato/pseuds/depressedpotato
Summary: Wishful thinking has him ecstatic over something he shouldn’t be. Behind them, on the wall, her shadow is starting to loom over, just like panic is starting to settle under his fingertips, still running between strands of her hair. The sun is rising.Maybe in his deepest fantasies, he’ll allow himself to call this a date, in the secure shadows of a late night spent alone. Perhaps they’ll even share spit sullied with blood and fear, blow up the entire training ground just to skip history and call it a kiss. The next day, he’ll tighten his grip on her bruised sides and call it an embrace.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	don't see a point in blaming you

Third year spring, after a night in the fight ring. Back alley of XX restaurant.

Despite the hot dish she demolished earlier, Arakaze shivers. Spring may have softened the weather in the city, but the ocean winds still keep their bite, especially on top of the semi cliff they’re on, working as a culminating point for the sea breeze’s sting before it breaks against the harsh rocks. It’s not common for customers to be shown this secret alcove in the back of the restaurant, but they’re not common customers either. The moment the old cook’s wife saw them coming in, with her covered in filth and him sporting a huge grin rivaling the shiny trophy’s glow, she began hollering for their table to be prepared. It didn’t matter if the girl was limping weirdly or if two teeenagers at this ungodly hour of the night should or shouldn’t be out, it was obviously a night for celebration. A feast for their oldest customers.

It’s not really the cold weather causing her to shiver, no. Her blood is still singing from the night’s previous events. It would die, normally, the rush she got from the ring. It would die, until she got back to the dorms, it would completely disappear as she slang her body on the mat, not even bothering to change clothes. But it’s not normal tonight. She knew it wouldn’t be when she finally gave in to his whining about seeing the underground fights, but the most she was expecting was some hushed down reprimand about her not so secret activities, an even more reluctant praise and the night ending with her paying a hard earned dinner/breakfast at XX.

She wasn’t expecting the tension. Certainly not. Wasn’t expecting to see his eyes shine. Wasn’t prepared for it either. Not for his unmoving gaze from the stands, bored face and unclenching muscles betrayed by his eyes, always the eyes. Not for his breath stuttering at the right moments, surprising her. She was so attuned to his breathing that she almost lost her grip on the opponent. Even after the fight, where her legs were shaking, not because of the fatigue but because his grip was scorching, more so than usual, branding her in front of hundreds of others. Not stopping, even in their booth, the inevitable grazing of their knees electrifying her.

So. Goosebumps on her skin. Not from the cold, not from the rushing adrenaline, not from her impaired vision because of the adrenaline. She can barely make out the rock’s shape in front of her, lost in a hazy gray of silicon, aluminium and magnesium. She doesn’t need to, though. Right now, all she has to be aware of is how he’s still scrutinizing her every move. 

After all, she’s still in the ring, even if it's a different kind.

Restless. That’s the word best describing how he feels right now. Constant motion of his heart, drumming in his ears. Agitation under his skin, strain in his muscles, telling him to just move. But he can’t, he won’t. He has to tread the waters carefully, pace himself so he won’t scare the wild animal.

She’s not moving but he knows she’s watching him. Just as much as he’s drinking in this version of her, she’s enjoying the calm before the storm. This version of her. One only a select few human beings are allowed to see. Mellow and content, slightly tired and worn out. Vulnerable and comfortably so. Eyes hazy, so hazy she doesn’t even bother trying to hide how they’re trained on him and he relishes in the attention. Her muscles are relaxed after the fights, completely the opposite of him. His jaw is hurting from crisping it so much. If he opens it, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to close it. 

Shiarashi savors the tang of tension building up. Lazy adrenaline junkie, he thinks, snorting. She doesn't like the chase. Instead, she uses her extraordinary patience to fry the nerves of the opponent. Likes playing with the prey without moving, lethargically smile until the target loses its marbles and rolls over to her willingly in a desperate attempt to save the rest. Sometimes, he feels like a fly.

His finger twitches against the wall, yearning to touch but she hasn’t said it’s ok yet, so he won’t. He’ll take what he’s given and content himself with that. Greediness is a flaw. He has many flaws. 

The loud voice of the old cook yelling to his wife about checking the pantry disrupts the perfect alignment of the eerily loud silence.

And then, it’s hands. Everywhere. He wants her, and there’s so much to her. Hair, cheeks, below her ear where she keens, neck where he also wants to bite, shoulders, chest, the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips and the left leg which he has to be careful of.

“Fuck, Arai, you looked so fucking hot- I wanted to- wanted to since then-”  
He thanks the gods above for the wall behind them for being solid, otherwise, he might’ve already crushed them in.  
“You were so much better than them, god.”  
And he knows he’s being cheeky, only pulling the strings a little more. No touching directly yet, he only lets his nose hover over skin, quickening breath caressing goosebumps.  
“God you were just- You put them down, yeah ? You’re the best, Arakaze. You’re the best and just to think you’re supposed to be below me racks my mind and I wanted to come down from the stands and I wanted to yell, she’s mine, you know ? I wanted them to know. ”  
Technically, she has a centimeter over him and she feels like a giant on the ring, even against overgrown men but right now, she seems smaller than him with the way she’s contorting her neck, opening up to let him in, yet pulling away at the same time with her hands, no real force used. She’s a showwoman, even now.  
“And I want, I want so much, can I ? Please Arai, can I ? If you say no just punch me or something but god I want to kiss you right now.”  
He stops when there’s at least some space between them, giving them the occasion to look at each other without crossing their eyes. Arai licks her lips, smiles a little.  
“You’re worked up today, huh ?” Honestly, they should give her a reward for being able to string out more than two words at a time. “You talk a lot when you’re worked up. You’ve always talked too fast anyway,” she mutters. When he thinks about it it’s true. Everybody he knows would say he’s taciturn but their dynamics completely overturn when they’re with each other-  
“Yeah, but only tonight, because I’m worked up too, yeah ? It would be good practice, to control, y’know. C’mon, hotshot. Please.” The last word is uttered over a lost breath, almost as lost as whatever excuse she found herself, gone with the wind as soon as the words lest her mouth.

The soft flutter of his eyelashes against hers gives a false sense of lull. A picture perfect moment that two lovers are supposed to share, soft and delicate. A moment he craves, a moment he can’t allow himself to have. It kind of slows time perception, until their lips touch. And when they do, he’s a goner.

It’s not frantic like he’d expect it to be and after all, there’s still the possibility of them blowing the entire restaurant. It builds up, languidly, making his vision swirl, like the heat that gets to you slowly, so slowly you’re not even aware of your own mirage.

He parts her lips with the bottom of his, slowly lets his tongue run along her teeth.  
He can feel her trying to catch her breath where their chests are pushed together, and it giddies him. He’s the one who makes Shiarashi Arakaze lose her breath. Nobody else.  
It’s leisurely, her penchant for using too much teeth is compensated by his affinity of kisses on the sloppier side. Almost sensual, but too agitated to be. They’ve gotten better at this. Not even causing a small blast on the side.

“You were so good,” he hums, “you were so good, even in the ring. Everybody was there, but I was watching you. I could only see you.” His mouth is right above her ear, sending vibrations down all over her nerves.  
And she laughs. She honest to god laughs and it makes him dizzy, sending the axis of his world off quilter again.  
“Yeah right,” she nips his ear in retaliation, “you fucking liar. I don’t fight to be a pretty sight, you know that. I’m not pretty to look at.”  
She is right. She’s definitely not the definition of elegance when she spits on the ground then knees the poor guy on the crotch, but she’s power. Raw, unfiltered potential. He doesn’t look at her to get satisfied by a stupid refinement show of clinking swords against each other like they do at school. It’s not even about looking at her when she does something she knows she’s good at in a place where she belongs, it’s just that-  
“I can’t take my eyes off of you. When you stride around and everyone knows who they should be afraid of. You’re a sight, alright. You fight for you. But I’m the only one you let see.”  
He blows air over the skin he just licked, making her shiver.  
Among all the spectators, it doesn’t matter who’s looking. His eyes are the ones she seeks approval from.

A moan escapes her lips right there, and he can see her flush out of the corner of his eyes. Normally, he would stop whatever he’s doing to tease the shame out of her, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea for tonight,..... today ? His mind is flickering between insanity and reason. Giving into instinct is so much easier, especially since the voice of reason between them is resolved on keeping her mouth shut ,so he will keep his lips tightly sewed as well.

Maybe it’s better this way. Her voice is unique, something he’d never be able to associate with anything else even if the face changes in his dreams. It would break his veins from the inside, blood spilling, magnified under the glass stuck under his skin even if her voice isn’t crystalline clear. No, Shiarashi Arakaze’s voice is like caramel, it’s thick and gooey and annoyingly sticky. It doesn’t roll off of his skin, it makes its way through the cracks and makes its home, carrying the weight of the consequences of the things they’re doing.

His shirt goes up, up, up and her hands wander down, down. Down. Cold air is seeping through, biting his skin where her fingers don’t sting. He’s aware he’s breathing too loud, but Arakaze hasn’t complained yet, her mouth is too busy claiming his neck. She’s softer than usual, no bite and much more tongue. The marks won’t see daylight. Alarm bells are ringing in his mind, this is too soft to be practice, he hears her voice echo in his head. However, this is a new kind of desire, a poison he hasn’t been exposed to yet, hasn’t had time to develop resistance to. The heat, the adrenaline, the fatigue, the wine, they’ve loosened his grip on reality and danger. 

All he knows is that he wants to warm her, because her hands are already too cold. Hips on hips, gentle and careful, he grinds down. The contrast of the harsh fabric against harsh fabric and the tender guiding elicits a gasp from her. He takes the chance to take the skin between his teeth, not biting yet, just taking pleasure in knowing he holds her pulse under control. He slides a leg between hers, hiking her up, keeping her on her toes. He inhales her scent, crimson burnt smoke and sweat fading out. The epinephrine has worn out by now, and it’s weird for them to still go at it without hormones inebriating them. It’s even stranger when he doesn’t break the skin but plants a kiss there, feeling her heartbeat kicking in.  
When she keeps a hand on his hair but doesn’t pull, he knows everything’s wrong.

Wishful thinking has him ecstatic over something he shouldn’t be. Behind them, on the wall, her shadow is starting to loom over, just like panic is starting to settle under his fingertips, still running between strands of her hair. The sun is rising.

Maybe in his deepest fantasies, he’ll allow himself to call this a date, in the secure shadows of a late night spent alone. Perhaps they’ll even share spit sullied with blood and fear, blow up the entire training ground just to skip history and call it a kiss. The next day, he’ll tighten his grip on her bruised sides and call it an embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes : i might have explained this on the notes i sent you earlier but i’ll do it again, for a better understanding of this drabble.  
> The constant mention of blowing something up refers to power/quirk fusion. For them, it works when they kiss and their powers merge (it’s not the only way but they pretend it is) and practice refers to controlling that quirk fusion.  
> The ring refers to the underground “powerless/quirkless” old fashioned fight ring. Arakaze regularly frequents that place because of her background but i've already explained this so i won't bore you with the details again. ( just remember the sect, the marines and how she was thought to fight)  
> The she’s mine isn’t to be taken literally. They're not anything but it’s a reference to the noble oath. Did i explain what a noble oath was ? basically its’ the same oath as the medieval vassal thing, as in i will always protect you and i swear not to kill you but it can only be done amongst nobles and it binds them by blood and powers so they literally can’t kill them. Also, in this case, it’s a one way oath (it's actually more complicated) since her mother’s and her father’s oaths were passed down to arakaze but the other oaths remain within the adults.  
> XX is the restaurant they grew up eating in (until 7 for arai) that i didn’t bother naming yet. They still go there ever since she’s back and everyone working in the restaurant knows their history (and their families).i am now realizing i never told you their parents’ story so you can’t know. It’s ok no need to know it to understand it. I'll work on my notes to explain as clearly as possible to you one day. Enjoy :))


End file.
